Ghost Luka Zarkot vs. Knight Remalia Manvar

You had arrived on Arx after hearing word of a fighting tournament. It had been set up by the Combat Master and had been advertised as a Revival of the long held tradition of naming a Champion of the Antei Combat Center. As you had arrived at the signup table after waiting in line, you were met by a Trandoshan who looked you up and down, said nothing, and slid a form attached to a clipboard to you. A cheap chain linked a pen to the clipboard.

You read it over and it was a standard legal waiver noting that you could not hold the Combat Master or the Brotherhood liable for any injuries or even potential death that occurred during the tournament. You were entering this tournament of your own free will. Any and all repercussions of doing so were at no one’s fault but your own.

You signed, and the Trandoshan hissed with delight as he pointed to a door behind the table. A cheap paper sign was taped to the door that read “ACC Championship Introductory Meeting” in what looked to be felt-tipped black marker. You stepped inside the dark room and that is the last thing you remember until you woke up just now.

The world around you was dark… and soft. The area that you lay on felt just a bit more firm than a standard pillow. A quick check of yourself revealed that you still wore and carried everything you had when you had signed the waiver. While vision was extremely limited, you could tell that someone else was in the room with you. Four ceiling lights clicked on, one at a time, giving the room a bright glow beneath the four lights, but an eerie darkness outside of their radiance. You were in a padded room with a barred and sealed door. Every surface of the room was covered in thick, firm padded square tiles. You lay on a bed made of the same material in one corner of the room, while someone laid in another bed in the opposite corner. It was too dark to make out their figure well.

A holoprojection dropped from the ceiling, giving the room a pale blue glow. It was Combat Master Vincent Brujah. The Sith smirked as he began speaking.

“So, you’ve signed up for the tournament? Where I come from, that makes you a little crazy. I’ve taken you to a more appropriate environment for someone with your condition.”

As he smiled, pink mist began spraying from the ceiling at the same location as the lights. Slowly, what little you could see of the full room began to tint pink. The Combat Master’s smile grew wider.

“And if you weren’t crazy before… well… we can fix that. The effects of this drug will be pleasant… at first. You must be careful, though. Take too big of a dose and things can get downright terrifying, or so I’ve heard. Prolonged exposure will result in death.”

He shrugged slightly.

“The only way out of this room and into safe air is when I tell my crew to open the door, and I’m only going to do that when there is one of you left capable of walking away. Until then, enjoy the ride.”

The holoprojection blinked away. There was no starting whistle. No horn. No audience. Just silence, dim light, and the realization that the longer you sit there, the closer you would come to death.

There was a minute of dulled senses as the two combatants came slowly to consciousness and took in the rules of this bout. For a moment after the holoprojection vanished, the pink mist began to enter the room. Every second, it filled their lungs while they collected themselves. Their training compelled them to action once the sickly-sweet taste brought alertness to their bodies. They both held their breath, knowing that each one brought them closer to their death.

Like two womp rats in a barrel, the combatants instinctively pressed themselves against the padded walls of their cell and took in their surroundings. Luka looked across the room to see a pale half-Echani wearing attire that displayed the mark of Clan Odan-Urr. She was unfamiliar to them, other than the clan name. At the center of the room paced Bico, guarding them like one of her own kittens and posturing towards the only perceived threat in the room. Out of the three, the nexu appeared most anxious about their situation, as she clawed futilely at the metal door that barred their exit with each frantic pass back and forth. Luka sought escape from the room as well, though their eyes shifted to the walls and ceiling. When no options were offered, they turned their attention to their challenger.

The half-Echani was irritated by the circumstance that she had found herself in, although she was still focused on the task at hand. There was but one way out of this, and how foolish it was. She had expected a spar to test her talents, not a death trap in a confined space. The tanned human before her was an unknown, and a threat unless proven otherwise. Remalia's bioluminescent ruby eyes narrowed at them, anticipating the other's ability. The human seemed to analyze herself in turn with the same intensity. Remalia's gaze then shifted to the pacing beast that stood between them.

Luka pulled a mask over their face. The taste of pure oxygen was a relief after the announcement they had received about the poison gas. However, the oxygen tank held a limited supply, and they had already breathed in some of the deadly vapors. And though the mask would buy them some time, the same couldn't be said for their companion, Bico.

"We both know what needs to be done," Luka said, their voice muffled by the mask. They slid from their bed to the floor in a crouch, their back against the white wall.

Remalia nodded, her expression neutrally stern. She shifted off the bed herself, then slowly reached her hands behind her to her belt as she stood, feeling for her lightsabers. The nexu hissed, turned away from the door, and crouched low on her haunches in anticipation. Her beady eyes watched Remalia with deadly intent.

"But we don't have to kill each other," Luka offered, their kind tone a stark contrast to their snarling companion. "You're from Odan-Urr. A Jedi, right? We can just spar a little, let them have their show. You don't want to kill anyone..." They approached slowly, cybernetic hand outstretched, a soft smile behind the mask, as one might pacify a frightened animal. Their voice almost lulled Remalia into compliance. Almost.

The hiss of a lightsaber behind her opponent's back alerted Remalia to the ruse. She drew her twin lightsabers in turn, catching a breath for action rather than a retort. The golden gleam of the blades caused the nexu to recoil and lash its tail. The creature's vicious maw gaped wide as she bared her fangs.

The attack did not come from the beast. A flash of cerulean came at Remalia with a whirling flourish, but she blocked it with her crossed sabers. She shoved the human’s saber back and sliced at their chest, catching their cloak as they spun away. As the human relied on the grace of the Force and quick footwork to keep just out of reach, the nexu went for Remalia with a swipe of sharp claws.